Khalil Jomaa translates my poems into Arabic

 

 

on a cycle
he sells bouquets and roses
peddling dreams

 

--R.K.Singh

 

 

 

" على دراجة

يبيع باقات الورد

ويغزل الأحلام "

- رام كريشنا سينغ

 

                                                                                                                             Tr.  Khalil Jomaa 

                                                                                                                              Calgary, Alberta

 

Khalil Jomaa translates my haiku into Arabic:

 

patches of shade

under a bare tree

scorching sun

 

--R K Singh

رقع من ظلال

تحت الشجرة العارية

شمسٌ حارقة

الشاعر رام كريشنا سينغ

Tr. Khalil Jomaa

 

 

after cleaning
the maid leaves behind
an oily smell

 

--R.K.Singh

 

 

بعد التنظيف

عافت الخادمة خلفها

رائحة الزيت.

رام كريشنا سينغ

Tr. Khalil Jomaa

 

 

after the storm
picking fallen tamarind--
too high the tree

--R K Singh

 

بعد العاصفة

يجنون التمر الهندي الساقط-

من الشجرة السامقة.

 

رام كريشنا سينغ

 Tr. Khalil Jomaa

 

empty stomach
sweeter emptiness--
Ramdan

 

--R.K.Singh

 

 

"معدة خاوية

أجمل فراغ-

رمضان"

 

Tr. Khalil Jomaa

touching her tattoo

in the darkness of mirror

moon from the window

--R K Singh

 يلمس وشمها

في عتمة المرآة 

القمر المتسلل من النافذة.

رام كريشنا سينغ

Tr. Khalil Jomaa 

 

 

high minaret

recorded call for namaz

soul's melody

--R K Singh

 

مئذنة عالية

مكبر الصوت يدعو للصلاة

نغم الروح

رام كريشنا سينغ

Tr. Khalil Jomma 

 

 

a tidal wave

touches the shore to wipe

my naked footprints

and leaves behind some shells

pebbles and memories

 

 

--R.K.Singh

 

 

 

أمواج المد و الجزر

تلامس الشاطئ لتمحي

آثار قدمي العاريتين

تاركة خلفها بعض القواقع

حصىً و ذكريات

 

رام كريشنا سينغ

 

                                                                                                                        Tr. Khalil Jomaa 

 

 

red with shame
the sky at sunrise
one more kiss

 

-- R K Singh

 

 

حمراء خجلى

السماء عند الشروق

 أرغب بقبلة أخرى

 

رام كريشنا سينغ

 

                                                                                                                Tr. Khalil Jomaa

 

 

 

searching for food
in the street garbage
a dog and girl

 

--R K Singh

 

 

    

يبحثان عن طعام

في قمامة الشارع

كلب و فتاة

 

رام كريشنا سينغ

 

 

                                                                                                                    --Tr. Khalil Jomaa

 

 

 

squatting

in the middle of the field

a woman with child

 

--R K Singh

 

قرفصاء

في وسط الميدان

امرأة مع طفل  

 

                                                                                                --Tr. Khalil Jomma

Fallen plastic leaf

rests between leaves of poems--

the cell phone rings

--R K Singh 

تسقط الورقة البلاستيكية

بين أوراق القصائد 

يرن الهاتف الخلوي 

رام كريشنا سينغ

                                                                                              Tr. By Khalil Jomaa 

on the terrace

facing the sun

an empty chair 

--R K Singh 

على الشرفة

في مواجهة الشمس

كرسي شاغر

رام كريشنا سينغ

                                                                                                

                                                                                                             Tr. Khalil Jomaa

 

 

looking for shade

under a shapeless cloud

a ragpicker

 

-- R.K.Singh

 

 

نص مدهش للشاعر رام كريشنا سينغ:

 

يبحثُ عن ظلٍّ

تحت سحابةٍ مشوَّهةٍ

جامعُ الخُردة

 

                                                                                                            Tr. Khalil Jomaa 

love tickles

with erect pistil:

hibiscus

--R.K. Singh

دغدغات الحب

بالمدقة المنتصبة:

زهرة الكركديه

 

رام كريشنا سينغ

 

 

                                                                                                       Tr. Khalil Jomaa 

come share Christmas

missing love in bed--

satan vertigo 

 

-- R K Singh 

 

 

ترجمة نص الشاعر رام كريشنا سينغ

 

تعال وشارك الميلاد

أفتقد الحب في السرير-

وسواس الشيطان

 

رام كريشنا سينغ

 

                                                                                                    Tr. By Khalil Jomaa

 

 

on the terrace

facing the sun

an empty chair

 

Ram Krishna Singh

على الشرفة

في مواجهة الشمس

مقعد خالي

 

رام كريشنا سينغ

 

                                                                                   Tr. by Khalil Jomaa

 

                                                                                                         

 

A LONE SPARROW, an e-collection of 50 haiku, with translation into Arabic

 

https://www.calameo.com/books/0035528310acd5f93da63

 

1

a lone sparrow

atop the naked branch

viewing sunset

 

2

 

wiping his face

under the umbrella

an old man with books

 

3

 

morning glory

fading in a few hours—

splendors of day-star

 

4

 

a dew drop

on the edge of the leaf—

the wind shakes

 

5

 

a sleeping snake

curled between the eggs—

layers of leaves

 

6

 

crowded streets

moving among the years

wretched faces

 

7

 

smell a snake

in the wet grass—

her smile

 

 

 

8

 

they come together

as themselves within themselves—

love’s silence

 

9

 

in silence

one with the divine will

growing within

 

10

 

withdrawn within

sensing infinity

an island

 

11

 

prayer book

covering the glass—

his last drink

 

12

 

mist in the eyes

her back on the chair—

a wry smile

 

13

 

a mosque’s dome

lower than mobile towers:

weaker God’s signals

 

14

 

a soldier

fighting the war

night inside

 

15

 

night bombing

oleander garden

white as death

 

16

 

pigeons fly

for shelter through smoke

blazing windows

 

17

 

on the terrace

facing the sun

an empty chair

 

18

 

her lonely grief

melts in the candle wax

evening’s dark floor

 

19

 

in the diary

searching phone numbers of

friends now alive

 

20

 

unable to change time

my watch doesn’t move

moment at will

 

21

 

measures loneliness

sip by sip

at dining table

 

22

 

a dead leaf hangs

by a spider’s thread

invisible in sun

 

23

 

cleaning the remains

of burnt out earthen lamps—

dusky temple yard

 

24

 

moon energy

fills up the inner space—

call to wake up

 

25

 

making lemon tea

and warm buttery toast—

birds singing outside

 

26

 

hitching up the skirt

she fills her pockets with

unripe mangoes

 

27

 

on a cycle

he sells bouquets and roses

peddling dreams

 

28

 

float over the hill

the autumn circle of smoke—

her long hair streaming

 

29

 

candling in vein

leave marks of teeth on her neck

utter holiness

 

30

 

after cleaning

the maid leaves behind

an oily smell

 

31

 

she hides the mirror

with rose and lipstick

and keeps her fiction

 

32

 

bedside—

our night clothes

await washing

 

33

 

a crescent

in the western horizon—

missing the moon

 

34

 

after the party

empty chairs in the lawn—

new moon and I

 

35

 

is there a release

from unloving life day by day

breathing heartless air?

 

36

 

aged sensations

lord over memory:

deeper sorrows

 

37

 

a load of wood

on her frail back

autumn evening

 

38

 

the lone mushroom—

a pregnant woman

stares out of the window

 

39

 

ripe on the branches

mangoes fall one by one

end of the season

 

40

 

drowsy eyes

sun behind the clouds

dreams wrapped up

 

41

 

a little toddler

with her fey appearance:

a woodland sprite

 

42

 

painting mom’s smile

with broken crayons—

smiling Winny

 

43

 

winter holidays—

my son chases butterflies

flower to flower

 

44

 

a cloud eagle

curves to the haze

in the west

 

45

 

sea waves

roll from far away

white peaks

 

46

 

travelling back

from the waves of bliss

a foam-leap

 

47

 

the mirror is so small

I can’t see the ocean

beyond my own look

 

48

 

I know roaring waves

I live through silence of shore:

the sea grows in me

 

49

 

making holes

in the wooden cross

white ants

 

50

 

sky’s dark patches—

I live with earth’s rhythm

liberation

 

Translated into Arabic by Boubaker Rouagha

Edited by Mahmoud Al-Rajabi

Published by Haiku From All the World, March 2021

 

Varsha Vijay (Sweden) translates my poem into Tamil

 

Who sees the smoke

of the thumb-sized flame

the body burns

 

the ashes of silence

float on the holy breast

tears pollute

 

--R.K.Singh

 

கண்கள் அறியுமோ

இந்த ஊன் எரிக்கும்

கட்டைவிரல் நீள்

தீப்பிழம்பின் ஆவி

 

மனதின் கருவறையில்

அமைதியின் சாம்பலாய்

மருகி கண்ணீரின்

தூபத்தில் உருவாகும்

யோகி

 

--Varsha Vijay

 

 

 

Comments:

Swaminathan Venkatachalam
Wonderful. Enjoyed both the original and the translation.




Varu VJ
Swaminathan Venkatachalam
I was waiting for your review. Thank you uncle. 
 
Sudhanshu Kumar Bajaj
So nice, Good Wishes To You




Varu VJ
Sudhanshu Kumar Bajaj
Thank you




Niranjan Shah
I can understand the first part talks about life, but the second part couldn’t grasp




Varu VJ
Niranjan Shah
Lovely start of the day discussing poetry. Thank you, Niranjan.
To me it brings the visuals of the soul of an artist in silent suffering. The mudhra of Shivlinga with the thumb up placed at the centre of the chest in Natya Shastra, represents the traditional Indian lamp, the dheep, the soul whose passion for art is lit by the sensitive sensory perception (body burns) of the artist. When self-actualization is hindered by a certain course of events, tears rolling down put off the bright light and the flame of such beautiful silence is damped and turned into heavy remnant ashes that float uncleared.....all in silence.
On a general view, the poem may suggest that we hardly recognise the needs of the soul that the mundane life burns out yielding to temporal desires and the consequences of which lead to complaints, polluting spiritual pursuits. The beautiful silence goes unaccomplished only to turn as remnants of a flaky lifestyle.
From many angles, the poem easily kindles deep reflections using too few lines.




Niranjan Shah
Varu VJ
Thank you the deep explanation as always. That was a knowledge bomb!
My regards to the author





Y.S. Rajan
Varu VJ
: I saw your translation sent to me by Prof R.K.
Ram Krishna Singh
. I didn't have the benefit of your explanations above. I know both English and Tamil to a fair extent. I am also aware that good translators don't attempt word-to-word rendition, especially when the cultural or civilisational backgrounds are involved. I talked to RKS, my brother, and said that it is not direct w-t-w translation, but has peeled several metaphoric layers, and has attempted to touch the antaraatmaa of the original poet. I also told him that you should have been soaked in some Tamil Bhakti poems as your Tamil words indicate. The thumb sized flame has the Upanishadic metaphor. I asked him what he meant; Upanishadic origin! 
 
Varu VJ
: I am deeply impressed by your insight and a great positive outlook: sattva. Otherwise one could have twisted into a deep sorrow too! I explained and elaborated the words and meaning. He was happy that his poem is able to invoke new imagery, which is always his intent. Then I took on to myself to translate your poem as if it were original, totally removing all other things from my mind. I read it out to RKS. He suggested that I post it in your timeline. See my attempt, trying to be very close to Tamil words. Would eyes cognize the vapour of the thumb size long flame of fire burning this flesh In the mind's womb languishing as ashes of silence in tear's smoke of incense is shaping the Yogi This came to me as I read your Tamil rendition again and again. I thought it useful to share as you have peeled one of the kernal's of RKS's poem which is cryptic like Upanishads or Tirumoolam. I hope I am able to convey in English waht you"saw" in the original English version of RKS. God bless!!!!


 
Varu VJ
Y.S. Rajan
Not at all times, the delayed response to a letter is due to the late receipt, dear sir. When the most unanticipated but much sought-after coveted privilege of being evaluated by the noble, who, from the simple myself to several dignitaries look up to, came as a surprise blessing, I was held spellbound by the sweetly humbling lump that rose from the depths of my heart; upon reaching my pharynx mutated into tears to margin the eyelids for few delayed droplets down the cheeks. They swallowed words and left me deliriously happy with your very generous appreciation. Thanking you with high regards. Shri.Y.S.Rajan is here and when, I pinch myself to see if it is even real, his encouraging gesture with the retranslation of my translation poem, giving it the energy of a status originale, augurs bliss for my year

Reading and writing in Tamizh after 2 decades warmly has helped me realize that the taste of the mother tongue is unparalleled ecstasy. I haven't had the least realization about how indifferent have I been in not contributing any little towards preserving one of the most ancient classical literature-rich languages despite being a native speaker. I lacked confidence in posting this work of mine and if not out of Prof.R.K.Singh's bold approach in risking his poetry to encourage me, I would have never attempted posting it publically. He's been the epitome of a guru for years now for many like us. I owe my gratitude to him forever. 
 
Would eyes cognize
the vapour of the thumb-sized
flame of fire, burning the flesh
In the mind's womb
languishing as ashes of silence
tears smoke incense
shaping the yogi 
 
Amazing sir! My perception was the wick being the fuel, votive of keeping the flame alive (body used to only preserve the light) - Karma yoga. Your perception has taught me that the converse is the truth - it is the soul that decides to begin with - Gyana yoga. Celebrating the wonderful insight from you sir.
 


Y.S. Rajan
Sorry for my poor IT skill. With great difficulty I separated the lines!!! So I am doing again with / sign.
Varu VJ
: pl make it as you have done for lines as others can capture it: Would eyes cognize vapour of/ the thumb size long / flame of fire/ burning this flesh/ /...............................................................In the mind's womb/ languishing as ashes of silence/ in tear's smoke of incense/ is shaping the Yogi.


Srikrishna Arangode Sundar
Prof.RK Singh's poetic prowess coupled with his trademark brevity and succinctness hooks the reader's intellect and catapults thoughts into multiple trajectories.
 
It is beautifully complemented by your vernacular take, which adds a spectacularly spiritual dimension to it by shaking the kaleidoscope of imagination into awe-inspiring abstraction.
Like a precise strike of a finely-tuned gong, your words resonate from the roots of a deep bass, proliferating into a rousing reverberation that perturbs the tranquility of mundaneness, ravishing the reader into a state of cognitive wonder, straddling linguistic limits with elan.
Joie de vivre






Varu VJ
Srikrishna Arangode Sundar
This keen appreciation from you, a stunningly bilingual poet, makes me feel deeply humbled and multiplies my confidence to continue to write in Tamizh. Thanking you K.
 
Straddling linguistic limits with elan - thank you tons for this pointer! True that his works are challenging and tricky to convey while translating, exactly what they imply. I don't know how he makes it happen as such.

 

https://www.facebook.com/varuvj.180/posts/563609231273544